


Startin' a Wrap War

by mermaidfinn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Christmas Crack, Connor is smitten, Detective Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Discord: RK1K Server, Fluff and Humor, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Swears, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Jesus Christ Connor!, M/M, Markus is whipped, POV Hank Anderson, Parent Hank Anderson, Sassy Connor (Detroit: Become Human), also sexual innuendos, beta reader? who is she???? nah but my bestie mawanda read this hi ily queen, but he loves it, i love yall and yall inspire me so thanks, i loved writing hank hes such a fun cynical bastard ahaha, i think thats all the tags but fr i got no clue what im doing so here take it enjoy, merry christmas beeches, oh yeah uhh actual tags sorry, rated T for Hank's potty mouth, rk1k - Freeform, she doesnt know shit about dbh but she listens to me rant about it anyway shes an icon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidfinn/pseuds/mermaidfinn
Summary: Hank was assigned to work the DPD Christmas Fundraiser event, and he is miserable having to force a smile and sell gift wrapping of all things to other frozen shitheads dumb enough to be going for a stroll in the icy Detroit weather. As if Hank wasn’t suffering enough, his competition arrives in the form of the infamous political artist Markus Manfred, also trying to raise money for his cause - funding the construction of a multicultural center. Hank’s not one to hold grudges, especially not against activists supporting an actually good cause, but he’ll be damned if he loses again this year to the guy responsible for all the political graffiti that Hank had to file stacks of paperwork on. That was, until Hank realized his son, Connor, was involved in the competition.based on the SNL skit, "Bring It On Down to Wrappinville"
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23





	Startin' a Wrap War

**Author's Note:**

> based on the "bring it on down to wrappinville" snl skit - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCUKya4gLFM
> 
> my brother played this on the tv (it's kinda our tradition to rewatch our fav holiday snl skits) and because im hyperfixating on rk1k, my brain decided this needed to be made.
> 
> just a warning: i haven't written creatively in a WHILE, but im glad i finally got the chance to get back into it. enjoy this crackfest nightmare i wrote at 3 am last night while i was in the christmasy mood! i have a bunch of other rk1k fic ideas, and i really hope i'll get to write n share those, too <3 happy holidays, y'all

It was on a Thursday that Hank came to this conclusion: the only thing worse than getting your ass handed to you, wrapped up in a nice little plastic bow, is getting your ass handed to you by your son’s new boyfriend.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe Fowler put me up to this shit again,” Hank grumbled to himself, shifting uncomfortably in the itchy red and white Santa costume he was forced to wear. His warm breath clouded in front of his face in the frozen air as he continued to gripe. “My fuckin’ fingers are gonna freeze and snap right off.”

Hank never considered himself a man to hold grudges, but there’s only so many things or people he can put the blame on for how pissed off he was to be assigned to work the Detroit Police Department’s Christmas Fundraiser again, selling _gift wrapping_ of all things to other frozen shitheads dumb enough to be outside in the icy weather. He blamed Markus Manfred for his misery. 

If he hadn’t been so swamped in paperwork or so caught up in his son Connor’s training, Hank could’ve been at home, snuggling his St. Bernard on the couch and drinking a beer. If his desk hadn’t been piled high with legal documents and shitty reports to file on that bastard, Markus Manfred, he wouldn’t have been called out by Fowler for not finishing his work again before closing. If his son hadn't already made plans and ditched his old man, Hank wouldn't be freezing out here alone and making a fool of himself, trying to get someone, _anyone_ to buy his gift wrap goodies.

Because of Markus’s cheeky political graffiti on the Columbus statue in the city plaza, Hank was stuck in this shituation again.

After he’d set up the folding table, Hank threw on the decorative plastic sheeting and began to sort through the unorganized box of tape, shiny bows, and wrapping paper in the most obnoxious colors and patterns. Now, all Hank had to do was sell it.

“Uh,” Hank confidently began. “Ho, ho, ho? Support your local police department and buy some gift wrapping,” he called out louder, feeling even more stupid. “Ho, ho, ho!” he coughed, throat seizing from the cold. “Get yer gift wrapping here! All proceeds go to supporting Detroit police, yay…”

A few pedestrians passed by, only giving Hank sympathetic glances or a tight-lipped smile and nod. 

_Come on, fuckers_ , Hank thought, _gotta at least get one customer. Then Fowler will cut me some slack._ Hank huffed and threw his hands up in resignation as he tried again, forcing as much holiday cheer into his voice as he could and trying to remember the fundraiser’s slogans. 

“Come get yer gift wrapping here! You’ll uh, make your local police feel merry and bright, uh, and help the community and police unite. Yer gift wrap will help pay for the training resources for future Detroit police, so there’s that. Ugh, yeah, so it's crime that we can fight. Ho, ho, ho...” he grumbled, masking his bah humbug bitching under his Santa disguise. “Agh, come on, people.” He tried once more, his frustration building, “Ho, ho, ho, come getchyer gift wrapping to go!”

As if Hank’s humiliation couldn’t get any worse, his competition arrived wearing an obnoxiously large green costume shaped like a holiday gift bag. Hank rolled his eyes as Markus Manfred, the bastard himself, strode up to his pathetic little stand with that smug smile and ridiculous get-up.

“Did somebody say ‘gift wrapping’? Afternoon, Lieutenant!” Markus chuckled, extending a hand to Hank, which he declined. “I’m raising money for the construction of a multicultural center in Detroit.” He glanced down at Hank’s stand with a knowing smirk, “Trying to get donations for more _training resources_ for the DPD, Lieutenant? A _worthy cause_ indeed,” Markus joked, knowing the grumpy man in front of him well enough to sympathize. 

It's not like Hank wanted to be out here playing Santa Shop with strangers on the snowy street. Besides, Markus had a point. The DPD’s holiday fundraiser was just a shallow front to get more money funneled into weapons, riot gear, and armor. Even Hank’s son, Connor, had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Still, Connor was following in his footsteps, training to be a detective, and Hank was expected to at least pull together a little bit of support for the DPD’s cause. Hank denied the protective-dad thoughts creeping up in his mind, the ones justifying whatever means necessary to keep his boy safe. 

During all his useless thinking, Hank didn't realize Markus had finished setting up his own fundraising stand, another table decorated with tinsel, a petition, pens, and gift wrapping. Markus noticed Hank’s eyes squinting with disdain at his display and perked up, playing innocent and walking over to Hank’s set up. 

“What do ya know, I’m selling gift wrap, too.”

Markus placed down the speaker he was carrying onto Hank’s table, grinning like a little shit as he pressed the play button. He side-stepped away from Hank, already shaking his hips to the music blasting from the speaker. He pulled out a roll of wrapping paper from his own stand, and immediately gathered attention when he started rapping.

“Roll out! Roooll out!

Let’s wrap you up, that platinum chain wit’ some diamonds innit! 

Make a big bow for that Benz wit’ them windows tinted! 

What in the world is in under them wraps,

what’s under them wraps, that wrapping paper?”

Just as Hank was about to shut down this musical nightmare, a brown-haired figure wearing another ridiculous costume ran up, only this fool was dressed up as a roll of red and white Christmas wrapping paper. _Jesus Christ, what?,_ Hank thought.

“Hey, did someone say ‘wrapping paper’?” the familiar-looking man called out, beaming at Markus. 

Hank almost choked, “CONNOR?!”

Connor’s face turned as red as the trimming on his wrapping paper costume, but he shook it off with a smirk as he joined in Markus’s dance routine. Side by side, Markus the gift bag and Connor the wrapping paper shimmied and rolled their fists in circles to the rhythm of the music.

Connor and Markus both chanted, “Roll out! ROLL OUT! Roll out! ROLL OUT!” After dancing in circles, they ended in a jazz-hands pose, exclaiming, “Bring it on down to Wrappinville!!!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd of onlookers on the street, and Hank couldn’t help but snort as he watched his socially awkward son blush as he and Markus received applause. _Agh_ , Hank thought, _I’m too old for this shit_...Customers flocked to Markus’s wrapping stand and started practically throwing money at them.

_Shit, wait. The fundraiser_ , Hank remembered. _Why’s Connor helping out_ Markus _of all people?! Con said he couldn’t help me because he had plans with this asshole?_

“Umm excuse me, gents, but this is _my_ turf!” Hank interrupted, irritation filling his voice as he tried to keep the Santa swearing to a minimum. “So you two plastic-covered... _idiots_ need to scoot your packages down the block, got it?”

Connor’s facade of confidence faded under Hank’s words.

“Shut up, Dad,” Connor retorted, holding back the volume of his voice but not the snark. He pointed at Markus and himself, head held high and proudly declaring, “We are professional wrappers.”

Markus continued for Connor, addressing both Hank and the crowd of customers, “We offer a wide range of services from traditional gift wrap,” Markus displayed his hands gesturing to Connor, “which is tasteful.”

Without skipping a beat, Connor gestured to Markus and replied, “To gift bags, which are not wasteful!” ending with a flirtatious wink.

“Can you _handle_ that?” Markus asked as Connor playfully plucked at the handle on his gift bag costume.

“Wh-?!” Hank sputtered. 

“Well, can you?” Connor taunted at Hank, trying to uphold his tough guy act despite his giddiness and smile. “Well, maybe you can handle this.”

Hank grumbled and crossed his arms but didn’t try to stop Connor as he led his goofy, white gloved hand down to the speaker to press play. Music blared and the boys started jumping up and down, hyping each other up to get into their dance routine.

“Bag down, tissue up! That’s the way I wrap it up!” Connor and Markus rapped in unison before splitting apart for their solos.

Markus took the spotlight rapping, “I like a bag, it’s an eco evolution!”

“Or go with the roll, it’s my favorite solution!” Connor chirped back. 

Markus whipped around so his back was pressed up against Connor’s front, and they continued to spit lyrics, dancing and grinding into each other more frenzied than if it was just a part of their routine. _What the FUCK, Connor?!_ If Hank had a drink, he’d have spat it out in shock.

“Bag down, tissue up! That’s the way we wrap it up!” After a twirl, the pair ended apart with jazz hands, “Bring it on down to Wrappinville!”

The crowd loved it and cheered even louder, earning more customers lined up at their gift wrapping stand. Hank had to hand it to Markus and his son -- they’re raising money for a much better cause than police resources, and they were unsurprisingly effective at drumming up business with their energetic performance. An old man in a crusty Santa costume that smelled more like beef and cheese than peppermint and candy canes was no match against Markus and his son’s efforts. No matter that Connor’s his son or the fact that he didn't give a shit about the DPD’s cause, Hank decided that he needed to step up his game and raise some hell to get back at Con for sassing him. 

“Okay, okay,” Hank said, “Well, guess what? You ain’t the only ones who can drum up business by being all holiday cheery.” 

Hank cleared his throat and was thankfully cut off from his attempt at singing when the speaker played the tinkling intro of “Somebody That I Used to Know”. 

“Son of a bi- NUTCRACKER!” Hank exclaimed, quickly avoiding swearing as Santa in public. 

“You didn’t have to rip it up!” Connor and Markus sang, parodying the song and replacing the shitty lyrics with gift-wrapping themed ones then ending with, “Bring it on down to Wrappinville!!!”

Hank threw his hands up, ready to admit defeat. “You know what? Why don’t you two go do yer flashmobbin’ somewhere else, got it?”

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t be starting a rap war,” Markus teased.

Connor piped up, “Yeah, you don’t want to be starting a rap war.”

The pair spat lyrics in sync, “You wanta be startin’ a rap war, you gotta be startin’ a rap war! Hooo!!”

_Oh my god, what the hell have I gotten myself into_...Looking down at the floor, Hank chuckled to himself, glad to see his son having so much fun with this. “So you think I wanna be startin’ a rap war, huh?”

Connor and Markus took less than a second to lock eyes then sang out, “Yeah, yeah!”

Hank’s eyes bore into Connor with a look that said, ‘ _Really, Connor? Cut the shit,_ ’and his son finally gave in, dropping the act to step closer to Hank and offer a truce. Markus remained back at their gift wrapping stand, finishing up the customers’ orders and earnestly discussing his petitions.

Connor offered a small smile on his guilty expression. “Hey, look, alright. I didn’t wanna be wrapped up in Fowler’s fundraiser with you again this year,” Connor admitted.

“Was that pun intended?”

“Maybe,” Connor laughed. “But it’s true! The holiday fundraiser is pointless, Dad. Everyone knows that the DPD will host their Spring gala for actual money to come in and fund our training resources. This whole thing is just about producing a false image to cater to people’s holiday cheer and nationalism,” Connor scoffed. Hank nodded in agreement, then uncrossed his arms to gesture for his son to continue. 

“Besides, I couldn’t say no to cause like Markus’s,” Connor finished, looking back at his partner across the sidewalk. “I know you don't approve of his... _methods_ , but Markus is fighting for truly good reasons. He’s a good man. I admire that about him.”

Hank couldn’t stay mad at Connor, not after seeing his boy so smitten with his eyes twinkling like the shiny plastic of his costume or how passionate he was performing when he’s usually so reserved in public. Still, Hank had questions.

“How d’you know Markus?”

A glimmer of mischief shined in Connor’s eyes, and he replied, “Who doesn’t know Markus?” clearly teasing Hank about the cause of his never-ending stack of paperwork. Markus finished wrapping his last customer’s present and walked over to join Connor’s side once the crowds on the street dispersed.

“Ha, ha,” Hank deadpanned. “I meant when did _this_ happen?” he gestured vaguely at the couple who were now holding hands in their stupid oversized, white gloves. 

“Okay, okay,” Connor relented with a grin, “I know we used to compete with doggy-bag over here, but one day I needed a gift sack for some playing cards I was giving Uncle Ben…”

“So I sacked his deck,” Markus explained.

Hank did a double-take. “Uhh, so what are you saying?”

Connor clarified, “I’m saying that I had a deck that needed sacking.”

“So I sacked his deck,” Markus explained again.

“He’s actually,” Connor blushed, “actually a very skilled deck-sacker,” to which Markus responded by clamming up, all flustered and sheepish.

Hank ran a hand down his face and groaned, “Agh, Jesus Christ, Connor, I get it, y'all are cute together, but I don’t need to know about you getting your _deck sacked_!”

The two boys’ faces lit up red, and Connor started fumbling words trying to come up with a better explanation or proper excuse when Hank just waved them off, his sour attitude disappearing like snowflakes melting on warm skin 

“Gah! Whatever, kid, I’m just teasing you. You both did good today,” Hank congratulated, “And good luck with your fundraiser, Markus. I’m glad to see you doin’ your activist thing without a bunch of fuckin’ paint cans and fines. I’ll be sure to let Fowler know I, ah, just need to relocate my stand tomorrow for this shit. Not a soul in sight wanted their deck sacked here,” he teased.

“Hank!!” Connor gasped.

“Relax, I’m kidding! Shit,” Hank muttered under his breath, “I don’t know how you deal with Mr. Stick-Up-The-Ass here, Markus. Anyway, don’t worry about it, Con. Now go on, git. Have fun!” Hank called out, shooing them away.

Connor thanked his dad and ran back to clean up his stand, eyes sparkling again. Markus returned the cheery expression and hung back to talk more with his boyfriend’s dad. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson. This really means a lot to me,” Markus offered his hand.

“Eh, just call me Hank and stop bein’ a pain in my ass, that’ll call us even,'' Hank said as he returned Markus’s firm handshake. “And treat Connor good, or I’ll rip you apart, got it?”

“Yes, sir, Hank, sir! I’ll be very good for Connor,” Markus promised quickly and grabbed the speaker.

“Markus?” Connor called, holding their wrapping supplies in a neatly packed box. He wore a mischievous smile on his face, batting his innocent brown eyes at his boyfriend. “Come on, Markus, I wanna help you with your package now.”

“JESUS CHRIST, CONNOR!”

“Love you, bye, Dad!”

Hank watched as the goofball couple walked away hand-in-hand, giddily giggling to themselves and singing more of their wrap lyrics:

“Speech is my recital,

I think it’s very vital!” rapped Markus.

“To wrap,”

“A gift,”

“That’s really slick,” Connor chirped in response before their voices rejoined.

“It’s tricky, tricky, trickayyy!!”

  
The old man chuckled to himself as the boys’ cheerful voices faded in the distance, and Hank kept his grumbling to a minimum while packing up his gift wrap stand. _Might not be a bad idea to team up for this shit tomorrow_ , Hank wondered. His lips lifted into a grateful smile. _Might could push our tables together and let them do all the showy shit while I just help em out._ Hank admitted to himself, _There’re worse things than getting your ass handed to you by your son’s boyfriend._

**Author's Note:**

> did i listen to the snl skit's rap like 7 times to try and figure out what the lyrics were? yes.  
> did i end up rewriting and guessing at the lyrics because jimmy fallon kept fumbling the words and that banshee in the audience kept screeching? also yes.  
> did I have a blast writing this garbage? y e s
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading and happy holidays! 
> 
> BY THE WAY, if you're an artist or have any talent whatsoever and decide to make an edit/drawing of the conkus boys in the gift wrap costumes, PLEASE let me know because i would die :'> i dont have a tumblr or tweeter totter anymore, so either comment to me down below or send a carrier pigeon my way pls ily


End file.
